Jack Ludlow - The Pillars of Rome

Alexander the Great’s armour came too, in his own war chariot; breastplate, helm and shield, which held an almost mythical significance for the whole civilised world. His sword, which no man dared to wear, lest such impiety caused him to be struck down by the angry gods, lay atop the pile. These were the possessions of the greatest conqueror the world had ever known and who had overturned his descendants? None other than Aulus Cornelius, styled now, by order of the Senate and the people of Rome, Macedonicus.

The triumph was complete when Aulus hauled his royal captive to the steps of the Temple of Jupiter, made obeisance to the greatest of the Roman gods, then used the rope that had dragged him through the streets to ritually strangle Perseus before a howling and delirious mob.

Cholon stood near the entrance to the bedchamber watching his master, reflecting that some men could never rest on their laurels. Who else could they blame if the gods, having so favoured them, chose to demonstrate the pitfalls of excessive pride? As an Athenian, he had been glad to see the Macedonians humbled; his city had suffered much at their hands, yet he could not understand these Latins. Having conquered all of Greece they desired nothing more than to speak his language with fluency, to discuss Greek philosophy, read Greek writers and watch Greek plays while spouting endlessly about the benefits of liberty. For barbarians these Romans were not savage enough.

With the Macedonians at his mercy, and having killed more than enough enemies in battle to ensure his triumph when he returned to Rome, Aulus had halted his legions. Those who surrendered he spared, taking only hostages, as well as a token number of captives as slaves. Cholon, being Greek and somewhat wiser, would have killed them all, the land he would have laid to waste instead of handing it back, telling those who had owned it that they were safe provided they paid enough tribute to the Republic and obeyed the rule of law. They would, in time, rise again and another Roman army would have to be despatched to subdue them.

‘You wait and see if I’m not right!’

This was said under his breath. He was much given to taking liberties with his master but he knew this was not the time to indulge in such behaviour. Cholon Pyliades considered himself a pious man, so if the gods chose to desert the Macedonians and their allies by allowing victory to go to the barbarian Romans, then his master, who had the power to do as he wished, should have punished them properly and having done that he should have lived in honourable retirement and not gone back off to war at the very first opportunity.

As the young slave entered to collect the child, Marcia examined him, staring again at his carefully curled hair, held by the braided band. He had a pale, almost girlish face, soft full lips and a slim, graceful figure, which caused her to wonder at the relationship between him and the man outside. He stood over the woman for a moment waiting for her to hand over the bawling child. Where would they expose it? That was obviously what was intended. The secrecy seemed unnecessary since exposing children was a common enough thing, even among the well-born, who could afford to feed a large brood. Would a hint regarding a good spot be welcome? After all, the woman desired the child to live, regardless of her husband’s wishes. She had put that charm around the child’s foot to identify him, a sure sign she would want him back at sometime in the future, with perhaps a handsome reward for the person who had reared him. But then she reasoned it would be best to stay silent. There were only so many places round these parts to expose a child; someone would find him and for a tenth of the fee she was getting tonight they would gladly give him up.

‘Cholon!’

The sharp command cut through her thoughts, as well as the child’s cries, like a whiplash. The man stood in the doorway, a black look on his face. Even after the strain of child-bearing the mother’s youth and beauty shone out in stark contrast to the countenance of her older husband. Marcia tried to guess how greatly the couple differed in age, which led her to further speculation, since such unions often ended in tears. The slave, responding to his master, bent down and took the child, slipping through the space left in the doorway. That was when the angry face softened: the man’s straight prominent nose and thick black eyebrows lost their menace, the full lips parted and he smiled at his young wife. Not a joyous smile, more one of relief that her ordeal was ended, but this changed his face completely, and when he spoke to Marcia his voice, soft and gentle, matched his changed mood.

‘Your work is done, child, yet I would ask you one more thing. Stay with the lady until I return, then my servant will see you safely home.’ Marcia just nodded, too awed by his presence to speak. She could see, as he could not, that the mother was fighting hard to hold back her tears. ‘But do not pry into matters which don’t concern you.’

His face still had the same smile but his black eyes bored into her, warning her of a fate that was certain should she disobey him. Then he spun on his heel and left. She busied herself, making her exhausted charge comfortable and the lady, who gave free rein to her sobs as soon as the husband departed, actually cried herself to sleep. The young midwife sat silently by her makeshift bed, her mind whirling with thoughts of what she had witnessed, and what the future might hold for her after the events of the night.

Cholon was already mounted, the sleeping child slung in a saddlebag by his side, when his master came out of the villa, leaping on to his horse with the agility of a long-serving soldier.

‘Where to?’ asked Cholon.

There was a half-mocking tone in the reply, for now that the child was born some of his master’s natural humour had resurfaced. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve no suggestions to make, Cholon? You usually do.’

‘There are several likely spots nearby, General, reasonably close to villages. If we lay him on a hillside they will find him as they go out to gather wood.’

The voice became hard. ‘We go south, Cholon. And I want a spot that’s miles from anywhere. I don’t want him found, ever!’

With that he kicked his horse and set off, leaving his servant behind. Cholon nudged his own mount and leant over its withers to follow. As soon as the horse moved the child awoke and the Greek found himself staring down into the steady gaze of a pair of bright blue eyes. He looked up quickly lest he be tempted to pity, and not for the first time uttered a soft curse aimed at his master, now some distance ahead.

Aulus rode hard, trying to block out the memories of the last two and a half years, a vain hope given the picture of that period never left him. A widower, he had decided to remarry, taking as a bride the daughter of an old army comrade, a girl twenty years younger than himself. As a frequent visitor to her father’s house, he had known Claudia as a pretty and precocious child; meeting her again aged sixteen it was very evident that she had blossomed into a beauty, surrounded by ardent admirers. Was it foolish for a man of his age and standing to fall in love with such a girl, even more imprudent to ask for her hand? His eldest son was older than she, the other not so very much younger, but he had consulted the augurs, made sacrifices aimed to ensure good fortune, and all, according to the priests, had been encouraging. The irreligious in the slums of Rome thought him a fool, a great warrior bewitched by a slip of a girl, which gave rise to much ribaldry and obscene graffiti between the day when the betrothal was announced and the ceremony by which Claudia became his wife.

What followed was as close to bliss as Aulus had ever experienced. At first in awe of him, his young wife melded within weeks into a companion of the kind he had only ever heard of but never experienced, even though he could claim his previous marriage to be a good one. Besides her beauty, Claudia had wit and charm and at no time did the difference in age seem to intrude in their relationship, especially in the bedchamber. She was passionate, willing as well as obliging as a wife, and a surprise delight when it came to dealing with the majority of his friends, who were naturally of his age. Aulus had never been so happy, and swore to anyone who would listen that he would trade his Macedonian victories rather than lose her.